Things People Say
by allthehouseslookthesame
Summary: Set shortly after the Great Game. John is injured and Sherlock stays by his side; they sort out their relationship  First fanfiction ever, feedback appreciated!


Sherlock Holmes was, by no means, a man of emotion. Emotions slowed people down, clouded their judgement, made people stupid - so what was the point of even having them?

Yet he remembered clearly the brief burst of joy he and John felt that night beside the pool, Moriarty gone, and the overwhelming urge to laugh away everything together; the relief, the sheer feeling of being alive, the feeling that everything was going to be fine because they were both fine.

But no, Moriarty had to have the last laugh. He had to come back and ruin the moment.

He had to come back, and give the order to shoot.

John went down, a bullet in his side, and Sherlock immediately went on his knees, putting pressure on the wound to try and slow down the bleeding. John was barely alive, Sherlock's hands full of blood.

And here they were now, John on a hospital bed and Sherlock looking through the window as the beeps of machines kept John's limp, pale body alive, cutting through the loud silence that surrounded the room.

Yes, Sherlock still had cases to solve and blog posts to write for his website, and yes, he found hospitals boring places, but he would stay by John's side.

John was his, after all - his best sidekick, always ready to jump after him; his best friend, always by his side, supporting his every whim. Other people had fleeting passions, sleazy relationships, boring ones, ones full of love.

But what John and Sherlock had was more - much more.

Sarah was inside, holding John's hand. According to John, she was the best thing that ever happened to him; Sherlock saw her as the most stereotypical, boring woman John had ever been with. Her disheveled hair and undone shoes told him she had rushed from work just to be with John, but he would rather she save the trip.

The only person John needed was Sherlock, and vice versa.

"Sherlock? Where are you? Are you okay?"

It was stupid how that was the first sentence out of John's mouth after he awoke; touching, but stupid. He reached in, moving stray bits of hair from his eyes so he could see them better.

"Sherlock, stop, Sarah... people might talk."

"And so they shall. What's your point? Your hair is messy; my official partner can't look unprofessional."

And there Sherlock went with his infuriatingly irresistible attitude; John had thought about no one else those nights he lay in the white bed, and once in a while he would open his eyes to be greeted by a sleeping Sherlock, arms crossed, eyes shut, softly breathing, chest moving up and down.

Sherlock did care, after all.

John felt his eyes grow heavy, and decided to go to sleep once again. But then, Sherlock said four syllables he never expected to come from the great consulting detective's mouth.

"I've missed you, John."

John waited, frozen in place, for Sherlock to continue. He wasn't expecting Sherlock to wax lyrical about how and why he would ever say such a thing, but then again, how could you expect or predict anything from Sherlock?

The atmosphere was positively awkward now, but John was used to it. Sherlock was a child after all; albeit one with a soaring IQ.

Sherlock took John's hand, and while John was pleasantly surprised, he let go, clenching his fists.

"Sherlock, people will really start to talk."

"So?"

"Well, we're not... we're not... I'm not..."

John struggled to find the right word as Sherlock bemusedly looked on.

"We're not lovers. We're friends." John's teeth were clenched, voice tight.

"Oh, but that's where you're wrong, John. I have no friends, don't you recall?

"Then what am I to you?"

"You are merely mine, John."

"But Sherlock, aren't you married to your work?"

"Yes, I am, very much so."

John felt cold daggers pierce into his heart, tears forming in the corner of his eyes. A smart comeback, the smug satisfaction of rendering Sherlock speechless... none of these could work right now, and so John looked the other way, hoping Sherlock wouldn't notice.

"And, Sherlock? What do you mean by all this?"

"Evidently, I don't mind cheating on it, now, do I?"

Sherlock took John in his arms and moved his lips downwards, kissing him gently for the first time - the first of many to come.

Nothing more had to be said, and as their hands came together and pulled each other closer, Sherlock felt his cold heart thaw out, chest growing tight - the last time he felt like this was... well... he couldn't remember, but this was definitely a moment that he would.

As Sherlock threaded his hands through John's hair, John feared the future more than ever. But looking into Sherlock's deep, excited blue eyes, full of a number of somethings he didn't understand, he couldn't bring himself to care.

"I can hear your excessive thinking again, John. It's annoying."

"Oh, shut up, Sherlock." John pressed his lips to Sherlock's once again.

Emotions were unpredictable, but so was Sherlock. So was John.

They were two pieces of a puzzle finally fitting together perfectly, and no one could get in their way now.

Case closed.


End file.
